


Marvelous Soulmates

by TheWalkingDebt



Category: Fantastic Four (Movies 2005-2007), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Asexual Reader, Asexuality Spectrum, Cutesy, Deaf Character, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Meet-Cute, Muteness, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Surprises, Swearing, ace!reader, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2018-09-24 00:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 6,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9691778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWalkingDebt/pseuds/TheWalkingDebt
Summary: Each chapter is a different soulmate, so you choose! If you want a character I haven't written yet, just ask.Update 8/11/2018: some of the chapters past/present/future tense is all screwed up, so I'm just going back and fixing some of them. Also, new chapter coming soon!





	1. Steve Rogers

It's in a small, unobtrusive cafe in New York city where you meet The One. You're a waitress; he's a customer. In his ballcap and thick jacket, you wouldn’t have recognized him even if you hadn’t been working a twelve hour shift on three hours of sleep. You stumble, and when he catches you, your arm is awash with the heat of a roaring Christmas fire. It trickles down your spine and fills your body with the comfort of home. You feel relaxed and rested for the first time in weeks.

His first words, “Are you alright?” burst into darkened life on your wrist, scratchy marks that look as though written by fountain pen turning from grey to black. Yours, “Holy shit, you’re Captain America” will later be found etched over his heart in your handwriting sometime later.

You wish you had thought of something more… well… graceful and ladylike to say.

“H-hi,” you smile, shy and disbelieving. America’s favorite hero and throwback is your Soulmate. Steve grins back, too relieved that he hasn’t missed you. His last thought, seconds before he had hit the icy waters some seventy years ago, had been on you. Not you specifically, obviously, but that he would never meet you. That he had damned some poor girl to a life without her soulmate. He had been sick with guilt over that, as well as with overwhelming fear for his quickly approaching death. Some all-American hero he was...

And when he had opened his eyes almost a hundred years later, he had just assumed he would never meet you. The girl that he was supposed to be perfect for, the one that would match all his desires and interests, would never be by his side. Those words that had puzzled him for his first twenty-some years of life would never be said aloud. You would either be dead or dying by this time.

But you aren’t. You’re wonderfully, and beautifully, alive. He immediately draws you in for a close embrace, completely intoxicated by the smell of your shampoo, the warmth of your body, the puzzle piece perfect fit you make in his arms. Like he was made for you, he thinks wryly.

“I found you,” he whispers to himself, holding you in a protective and tight hug. One neither of you would likely end anytime soon.


	2. Tony Stark

It happens at one of the famous man's infamous parties. Clint’s wife and your supposed friend, Laura, insists you need to have some fun and _where better than a Tony Stark party?_ So Clint takes you to the Avengers tower where everything is very… New York. You’re _so_ not a city girl, and honestly, you’re feeling a bit nerve-racked by all the people. So it's when you’re out on the balcony, just trying to catch your breath, of course he finds you there. All suave and charming, you know him by reputation to be a lady’s man, so you don’t take him too seriously.

That is, until his hand nudges yours and you find yourself gasping at the contact, waves of electricity running over you. His first words, “And what’s a beautiful lady like you doing outside of the spotlight?”, burst bright on your skin with alarming thickness in their heavy block text. Your returning reply, “Avoiding that spotlight” will be just as dark around his arm. Your eyes meet, and a small smile creeps up his lips.

“Maybe we should go somewhere a little more private?” he offers his arm and winks behind red sunglasses, despite the encroaching night, and you rest your hand on the smooth material of his Italian suit with tentative care. He draws you in close as you walk, and the bubbly feelings rising in your stomach make you feel like a young schoolgirl, crushing on the popular guy everyone wants. One magical moment later, he's noticing her, everything about her, and those movies always end with a kiss, don't they?

You smile to yourself. Yes, yes they do.


	3. Natasha Romanoff

She’s trying to kill you. Literally. And it’s working. Tugging fruitlessly at her legs locked around your windpipe, you can feel yourself beginning to pass out before you manage to yank her head down to your level. You brush her cheek, and a cold fire sweeps through you both. Her grip loosens and you two separate, staring at each other, gasping for air in your case.

“So, that happened,” you breathe, your first words, and you watch the horror in her eyes grow.

“Shut up, shut up, this can’t be happening,” she mutters back, looking ready to stand and fight once more, but not with those same words imprinted on your heel. They had been chasing you since you were born, terrifying you with their meaning. You can’t hold back now, not when you’ve met _the One_ - whether she’s a good guy and you’re a bad guy or whatever. You hate your words, always have, because they scare you more than anything else. That you being someone's Soulmate is so disgusting to them that they'd freak out so badly at the realization. You won't let these simple words do that any longer.

You'll do anything to make her change her mind, to make her see you need her, and she needs you.

“It is,” you stand up, closing in on her, taking in her whole form. She's beautiful, with her soft red hair and hard green eyes. How could you not have noticed how gorgeous she was? You simply must have. “ _Please._ Can… can we just talk?” Even as she looks extremely wary, she nods, and your heart lifts in nervous flight.  You wonder for a minute if you mightn't be better off just fighting to the death.

Most likely yours.


	4. Bruce Banner

“Oh!” he stumbles into you, knocking your unbalanced body to the dirt. “I, I’m so sorry, I…” He then recalls himself, where he is, and begins again in the native language.

“Hey, you speak English!” you grin, relieved, up at the dark haired man. He stopped babbling, if only just for a minute. “No, no, it’s my fault, uh, I should’ve watched where I was going.” He reaches down to help you up, and when your hands clasp, everything changes. You gasp with the energy burning bright inside you all of a sudden. It itches across your skin, a strangely pleasant sensation. You watch as the words thicken delicately across his knuckles, your first four words to him becoming bright and vivid. His crawl over your side, which he’ll find out later. They're just so common you hadn't even thought to get your hopes up when an older, attractive man bumped into you in some small Indian village of all places.

He stares in disbelief down at them, then looks up at you, awkwardly smiling. “What a place to meet, huh?”

“Had to travel halfway around the world to find my soulmate,” you laugh. “I think it’s worth it.”


	5. Thor Odinson

He’s far too glorious for you, or any mortal, to see. Your knees shake as he strides over the battlefield, his powerful hammer clutched in one large fist. He’s twice the size of you, surely, and your heart quivers like a cornered rabbit as he approaches you. Those clear blue eyes look over the chains holding you down, keeping you prisoner for the ‘beast’ that had once terrorized your people. You were forcibly made the sacrifice, but now, surrounded by the carcass of said beast, you feel more like a reward for this glorious god-man. He smiles, seemingly enraptured by your form though you can't imagine why, before smashing your chains to pieces with his hammer.

“You are free to go, my lady,” his voice is deep and lovely, and you just want to wrap up in it like a warm fur. You shiver in the breeze coming in alongside the blood-spattered beach, but not just due to the cold. You know those words, far too intimately. How dare you take possession of such an immortal being? But you know you must be near him, even if only as a slave.

“I cannot,” you whisper, unable to believe your audacity. But how are you supposed to just return home when there’s a god of this magnitude before you? One that is a part of you, the one that completes you. There must be something, anything, you can do to remain close to him.

You kneel immediately. “Please, my only wish is to serve the gods.” You can’t even make yourself look up at him, but the crackle of rock under his feet alerts you to his movements. He has knelt before you, and he tips your head up to meet him eye to eye. Something like thunder crashes through your skull, singeing your blood, boiling under the surface of your skin. Your body sings at his touch, and he appears equally enamored.

 _How can he be? I am nothing_.

“My lady,” he whispers, reading to himself the faint words that have now become stark contrast to your skin. “You are mine.”

“And I yours, my Lord,” you murmur back, watching your words take possessive control over his bare chest. His words lie just beneath your throat, where you are most vulnerable. It only makes sense.


	6. Loki Laufeyson

_God_ you hate him so much.

“Will you just fuck off?” you finally snap, slapping Loki’s hand away from your laptop. He’s been trying to tamper with it, and you, all freaking day.

Funny. You didn’t realize until then that must have been the first time you touched his skin. You gasp with the icy contact, the cold that shivers all through your body, even as his turns blue. He blinks red eyes at you momentarily before his usual visage takes over once more.

“No,” you shake your head, shutting your laptop, getting up to leave. “No, I can’t… this _can’t_ be possible…!” Well yeah his first words were… exactly the same as those on the small of your back. But that… that couldn’t have meant anything! A-anyone could have said those words to you.

_My, my, and what have we here?_

...No. No one could have. He’s, he’s _such_ a creep...

He’s still staring at his hands, watching in amazement as your first words appear across the underside of his forearms. As a foreigner to Earth, he's become accustomed to human centering their lives around these silly little phrases, yet never had he thought he'd become one of them. He's oddly proud of it now, grinning ridiculously at the sight.

_Fuck all the way off, Reindeer._

“You have a strange affinity for that word, my dear,” his stupid smirk is wide and unfairly attractive. _Dammit_. You’d blame the mark, but you’ve thought he was handsome since you met him. He’s just… also a gigantic asshole.

“I’m leaving,” you inform him hotly, cheeks red as you storm out. He watches you go, still grinning widely to himself. He hadn’t thought it possible. Asgardians, and Frost Giants obviously, were not born with Soulmarks like the humans were, but Thor had gotten his fair share of Soulmarks from matching with a human. Why not Loki? Well, before he would have said they were beneath him. But you… you are infinitely more fun to provoke and tease.

He won’t be letting you go anytime soon.


	7. James "Bucky" Barnes

It’s November 1st, and you still don’t have a date for the Sadie Hawkins. Even your best friend, Lottie, is starting to tease you about it.

“This is a day meant for old spinsters like you, just pick any old scrub!” she encourages, or mocks, you’re not entirely certain. She's pretty good at those little backhanded compliments. You glare at her.

“Well gee whiz, Lottie, wish I had thought of that!” you return sharply. “I don’t want ‘any old scrub’. I want to have fun! I want someone I can talk to; someone who isn't an utter goon!”

Lottie scrunches her nose and mouth up in thought. “Well… I do know a guy who knows a guy…”

And that’s how you met James “Bucky” Barnes, probably the dishiest fella you’ve ever met. His eyes are dark, and his smile is wide. He grins down on you, _cuz geez Louise is he tall_ , and calls you a swell dame.

Well you’re just in a real lovestruck panic over that one, and for good reason, because you would recognize those words said to you in a hurricane.

“He seems real keen on you, huh?” Lottie winks, having dragged you to the bathroom to ‘powder our noses’, or rather, exchange your thoughts.

“He’s a dream, that’s for sure,” you giggle a little, going pink. “Lottie, he said _the words_.” She nearly drops her makeup.

“Go on!” she gasps, amazed. “You’ve gone screwy!” You show her the words on the back of your neck. “Gee, no wonder you’ve gotten all goofy. Why don’t you just give him a kiss already?”

When you get back to the table, he helps you sit down, putting your hand in his. Even having expected it, the warmth sliding down your body like a waterfall fills you with excited sparks. He grins.

“Knew you were the one,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb across your hand before revealing your first words to him on his left wrist. “So, cash or check?”

You grin wide, leaning across the table. “Cash, please.” His kiss is your first, and all your kisses are his last.


	8. Peter Parker

Technically the first time you meet him is as Spiderman, so does that count? Your words seem to think so. Good thing they don’t stutter as much as he did. Or ramble on as long, or they’d completely cover your back.

“Wh-whoa, hey! Didn’t, uh, didn’t expect to see you here,” you jerk up at the sound of those far too familiar words, mouth falling open to say… well. Whatever you are meant to say. “Not that you, _you_ , are the surprise it’s just… nighttime building crawling’s sort of my thing… Not-not that you can’t be here too, I…!”

“You talk a lot for a superhero,” you remark, smiling a bit. He starts back, clearly surprised, gesturing between you and him.

“Omigosh, oh… oh my gosh, you’re…!” he’s lost all cool points by now, but his inability to speak is actually kind of adorable.

“My soulmate’s Spiderman,” you shake your head, looking out over the skyline. “There’s a shocker.”

He tentatively approaches you, “Uh, are… are you okay? You seem kind of…”

“Angsty? Nah, just… life is a bit difficult at the moment,” you sigh, staring at the cement roof of the apartment complex you now sat on. “Y’know, as difficult as life can get for an American girl with enough money to afford lunch and new clothes.” Your smile is dark and wry.

“Doesn’t… doesn’t mean your problems are any less valid,” he tries softly, moving to take a seat beside you. He dangles his feet off the ledge, clearly unafraid of the heights anymore. That would put a real damper on his swinging about the city, you suppose.

You laugh a bit. “No, but it sure feels like a stupid little pity party.” You move to stand up when his hand grips yours. He still has his gloves on, thus blocking his skin from touching yours. Otherwise, you're sure you'd be feeling... something. That Soulmate spark everyone raves about.

“It’s not a stupid pity party,” he assures you warmly, and for a moment, you swear you know the guy behind the mask. “Your feelings are valid, and… and maybe you should tell someone about them.”

You smile, “Maybe you should take up psychiatry, Spider-boy. Seems your, uh, _night job_ isn’t enough for you anymore.”

“Well, y’know, I just like helping people,” his voice becomes bashful and shy as he looks away. “I’ll see you at school.”

Before your confusion can be voiced, he’s swinging off the building, flying far away.

_You go to my school?_

The next day, you’re getting your books out when your locker neighbor shows up. He smiles at you, warm brown eyes like chocolate chips. “Hey,” he starts, nervous. If you had been more aware of the guy, you probably would’ve had the presence of mind to consider he’s never spoken to you before, so this would be a strange occurrence and break from schedule. 

Instead, you nod back, “Hey."

You’re still stuck on the fact that Spiderman is your soulmate, and he said he’d see you at school. Well you’re here, where the hell is he?

“You feeling okay?” the guy beside you asks as he twirls open his lock.

You shrug, “Good as can be, I guess.” You’re actually constantly low-key irritated and miserable, but it had vanished just a little bit last night. You want that comfort back; you really want to feel that _zing_ of Soulmate energy that TV made such a big deal. Not that you'll mention a jot of this to a guy you've never talked to before.

“That’s good,” he mumbles under his breath, darting a quick look at you. “I…”

“Watch it, losers!” Flash and his henchmen stomp by, shoving the kid out of ‘his way’, but presumably more for his own entertainment. You catch him just as he falls against you, and as you two collapse to the floor, his cheek brushes yours. And dear _Lord_ , no one ever warned you enough about how strange your Soulmate's spark could be - that weird but good honey warmth that oozed down your skin and clung like… like…

“Spiderman?” you whisper, surprised, unable to believe this. You stare up into those deep brown eyes, that hesitant and shy little grin, and you smile a little back.

“Uh, Peter, I’m… I’m Peter,” his words come out in a nervous tumble, but that seems normal for him at this point. It’s infinitely attractive. He’s insanely attractive, but that might just be the Soulmark talking. Still, you can’t wait to find out where your words are on his body.

You just might have to encourage him to skip school with you.  


	9. Johnny Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not new-Johnny. Chris Evans Johnny. He's much prettier.

He’s a jackass, and you’re an idiot.

So, really, nothing’s changed since high school when you were head over heels in love with him, and he was busy working on wooing over the prom queen.

Doesn’t change the fact that you know his words are imprinted permanently on your skin, as well as why he refuses to touch you. They’ve remained grey and unresolved letters since then, much to your frustration and somewhat misery. Really, though, it’s for the best. You can’t see yourself _being_ with a guy like Johnny, even if you’re supposed to be soulmates. Some just don’t work out, and this one… this one never would.

You really shouldn’t be thinking about these sorts of things in the middle of a fight, though.

You hear Johnny shout your name, but you’re already being thrown halfway across the street by Blastaar’s powerful energy blasts. Your head collides with solid cement (as if there’s any other kind), and it all goes black.

When you wake up, the first thing you hear is your heart monitor quietly keeping tracking of your pulse. You stir, opening your eyes to small slits just to see Johnny softly snoring in a plastic chair beside your bed. His hand rests over yours with the blanket in between. You sigh a little at that, smiling sadly as you manage to grip his hand through the protection of the starchy material.

He slowly wakes up, rubbing at his mouth and five o’clock shadow before turning sleepy blue eyes onto you. They brighten almost immediately.

“Thank God,” he breathes, only taking a moment to capture your face in his hands, planting a blazing hot kiss on your lips. It burns straight through you like a bonfire, and your head is a minefield of trigger happy fireworks.

“I’m so sorry, I just…” he leans his forehead against yours, eyes shut. “I couldn’t drag you down with me. You… you deserve so much _better_.” You've never heard him talk like this before, and you'd wonder if it was sleep deprivation talking later, but right now you know humor's the best medicine. For him, at least - you'd like a little more painkiller for the considerable headache in your skull.

“Too bad I’m stuck with you,” you murmur teasingly, placing one hand on his cheek and the other in his hand. “The guy who stuck around my hospital bed for however long it took for that patchy-ass beard to form, the one who’s saved my life a million times before this…” you place a gentle kiss on his forehead before whispering, “The man whose words I’ll never be able to forget.”

Johnny scoffs, “Yeah, so what pick-up line did I try on you?”

You grin, wincing as you push aside the blankets and raise your shirt, enough to see the words emblazoned on your hip bone.

_Hey partner, guess we’re gonna be stuck together for awhile, huh?_

“Chemistry, you remember,” you come to the aid of his puzzled, but pleased, expression.

“‘Course I do,” he murmurs, touching the words with disbelieving fingers. He grins up at you. “Hey, Soulmate, guess we’re gonna be stuck together for awhile, huh?”

“Better be,” you chuckle, yanking him down by his shirt to brush his lips against yours. “ _I'_ _m depending on your good looks getting me an A_.”

You'll talk semantics later. Right now, you're making up for years of waiting for him to come to his senses.


	10. Sam Wilson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is okay! I've never written for Sam...

Your words have always been an annoyance to you. It's just your own last name in a heavy-handed scrawl between your shoulder blades. Any time someone's introduced to you professionally, you make sure to shake their hand, hoping beyond hope that this time, this touch, would be it. Never is. You’re starting to think you’ll always live in a state of confusion and worry that your soulmate has the same damn problem.

And maybe the touch is over-hyped, just a conflagration of recognizing your Soulmate from words alone and simple enthusiasm.

So you’re not too excited anymore when an attractive guy’s first word to you is your name. Still, his hand is warm and firm around your own as he shakes it. Your latex glove prevents skin to skin, but you’re not expecting anything anyways. Too bad. Sam is really quite handsome.

“I’m not a vet, but you seem a bit big for a falcon,” you tease, turning away to grab your medical kit. When you face him again, his eyes are wide. Oops. Did you offend him? You must really not be half as funny as you think you are. “Um, sorry, I…”

“No, no, I just never thought my soulmate would be so damn _gorgeous_ ,” he chuckles, soldierly stance loosening. “Figured you’d be a little sassy, though.”

You wish you could say you had done more in that situation than just freeze, but he’s the one that makes the move to kiss you. You melt into it entirely, a furious windstorm gusting through your body like you had just been rocketed into the atmosphere. It about blows you away how strong that strange sensation is.

And you aren’t exaggerating _or_ imagining it.


	11. Clint Barton

_Grab somebody sexy, tell them hey!_

...Yeah, your words are lines from a Pitbull song. You have to wonder about your soulmate’s taste, but it makes for a good laugh now and then. Besides, at least it's different, something noticeable, versus a “Hi, how are you?” traditional greeting.

You’d never be more grateful your perfect mate was anything but traditional.

“A karaoke bar?” you sigh at your friend’s drunken declaration. She had to be drunk. How proud can she sound about where she currently is without three too many tequilas inside of her? “Seriously, Cath?”

“Ladies’ night!” she chirrups far too loudly, causing you to pull the phone from your ear with a wince. You can hear the off-key, raucous singing and screaming just in the background, and you fully regret all the choices that led up to you agreeing to pick up Cathy if she needed it.

But you’re a good friend, unlike some people, and so you go. You hope she doesn’t throw up in your car. You enter the bar to a sour note version of a Taylor Swift song; thankfully it’s ending.

Your friend and co-worker takes a while to be found, but you finally catch her taking two drinks back to her table at the front of the bar. You’re not even sure if this place counts as a bar. There’s far too many neon lights and variety of cocktails for anything less than a club. And there’s actually a line for the karaoke machine? Seriously?

“Cath!” you grab her with exasperation. She turns to look at you, big eyes innocent and sweet.

“What?” she slurs the single word plaintively.

“You’re drunk; you’re going home,” you tell her firmly. Immediately tears well into her eyes.

“No! No!” she pleads furiously. “He jus’ got on stage an’ I gotta see him. Julie from IT says he’s hot an’ he sings real good…!”

“You _called_ me,” you reply with irritation. “You’re going home _now_.”

“I just wanted you here to lissen,” she insists, grinning wide as she tugs you down into a seat. Your eyes go to the stage reluctantly as a familiar song starts, a fit young man waiting on the stage. You almost smile. Strange, but not entirely weird. It’s not like it’s not a popular song.

“ _Me not working hard? Yeah right, picture that with a Kodak. Or better yet, go to Times Square, take a picture of me with a Kodak. Took my life from negative to positive, I just want y’all to know that, and tonight, let’s enjoy life. Pitbull, Nayer, Neo-- Tonight! I will love, love you tonight! Give me everything tonight. For all we know, we might not get tomorrow! Let’s do it tonight._ ”

He’s pretty cute, honestly, and you can see the clear muscles making his arms bulge against his t-shirt. His voice is honest and raw, beautiful in a way that’s not quite perfect, but still amazing.

Then it lifts for the female part and you about die with laughter. His falsetto is... impressive, to say the least. His eyes catch yours, and he grins widely.

“ _Grab somebody sexy tell 'em hey!”_

Your heart just about stops. Did… did that count? Are… Is he…?

" _Give me everything tonight! Give me everything tonight!"_

“Issn’t he just soooo cute?” Cath drawls by your side, clearly amazed. You’re just watching in stunned astonishment, a blush filling your cheeks at the very thought. This couldn’t possibly… but there was no way…

You _have_ to know.

“ _Don’t care what they say, all the games they play. Nothing is enough, ‘til they handle love._ ”

He’s going back to that line once more, eyes still darting back to yours, not that you can bear to take yours away. You have to do something, _anything_ , but what?

“ _I want you tonight, I want you to stay. I want you tonight…_ ”

He holds his hand out to you on that last line, winking playfully.

You take it, much to his and your surprise, honestly.

Like an arrow to the heart, you can’t breathe all of a sudden. Even if you can’t see them, you can feel the words flare to life in the middle of your back. Feathers tickle the back of your neck, and all your nerves flare up with energy. His eyes go equally wide, but he hardly misses a beat.

“ _Grab somebody sexy tell ‘em hey!_ ” he grins wide, pulling you close to him. “Hey.” His voice is low and rolls from his body to yours. You’re still rocking from his hands on your waist and hand, skin on skin, his rough and calloused palm underneath yours.

“‘Hey’, is that the best you’ve got?” you grin back goofily, watching the just barely visible grey lines thicken and darken just beneath his shirt collar.

“I mean, if you give me time, I could definitely come up with a few better,” he admits, watching your face with adoring eyes, completely ignoring the music now.

“Okay,” you agree happily, dazedly. “Can’t wait.”

“Cool,” the relieved smile he’s wearing shouldn’t be nearly so… relieved. He’s freaking _hot_ and your _soulmate_. He starts to lean in, waiting for confirmation, before closing in for a kiss. And if you thought his hands on you was the hottest thing he could do, this kiss blew that out of the ballpark.

The audience gives drunken cheers and howls.


	12. Pietro Maximoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deaf!Reader Mute!Reader

A man as fast as Pietro, impatient with the slow pace of everyone else’s reality, almost never seems within touching range. He’s always zipping about the room, grabbing an unnecessary coffee and bugging Tony or Clint with jabs at their sides without them being able to see him.

You mostly just try to stay out of his wind tunnel, which is difficult since your job is essentially to fix anything broken by an Avenger. And Pietro was the chief cause of these accidents. Tony had noticed your talents with pretty much anything you could get your hands on, namely your restored 1967 Mustang Fastback, and brought you up after several of his cars had been banged up by Pietro or Clint’s reckless driving.

They still insist raccoons had done it.  _ They were lucky their stupid blue eyes make them so dang cute. Stupid hot smiles and scruffy faces and depressing backstories... _

You are just setting in a new plate of glass for a window when Pietro blasts by, pushing you out of the way with a blast of wind at your back. You stumble against the open window, heart hammering as you realize you’re hanging out almost six hundred feet above ground.

An arm wraps around your waist, and you’re yanked back suddenly.

His breath in your ears, his touch on your waist… you can’t even hear his words, but you go gooey inside anyways. You assume he’s asking if you’re alright.

“I, I’m fine,” you sign thoughtlessly, hands shaking as they move.

He doesn’t understand, taking your hand in his, as if to study the motion by your skin. At that moment, a cold chill sweeps through you like a brisk post-winter breeze. You feel it rattle through your body, leaving heat and energy behind, your heart hammering inside you like a jackhammer on your ribs.

At that, his eyes light up, and they fill your vision. You read a strange, probably foreign, word off his lips before he’s holding you tight. You’re still stunned. With your condition, there is no way you would have been able to hear your Soulmate, but he could still feel you. 

You had been born without a Soulmark, entirely blank, which scared your mother into crying fits through most of your childhood. You had been set on an empty existence with only your cars to comfort you when some Russian fast-talker, a bleached-hair speedster, slowed down for a moment to learn your language.

 

You had his first signed words tattooed on your arm, the motions in ASL beneath, and that is more than enough.   
He is more than enough.


	13. Ben Grimm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ace!Reader, reference to previous (vaguely) bad relationship, reference to autism, a hint of swearing... I think that's all.
> 
> It's a bit long, but no way am I cutting this, I love it too much. And I'm a little surprised by that, tbh. Sorry for the wait! I've been... busy *watching a thousand other Netflix shows and not anything Marvel*

The first thing he does, having just stumbled out of Reed's machine with fire in his lungs and body itching with baby new skin, is check his mark. 

He breathes a sigh of relief as he sees the words once more - flat and yes grey, but not gone or screwed up. He had worried the change would wreck them, wreck  _ him _ , and... on his… when he had been… he couldn't read them as the Thing. The stony surface that was once his skin kept the words only faintly, and they fell between the cracks - letters jumbled into nonsense beyond legibility. It had been another part of the change that drove him nuts the longer he went on without knowing, without the constant reassurance there was someone out there waiting for him.

He runs his fingers over the words with amazement; they rest on his calf, bared once more to the world. He has a Soulmate. At least he still has one good thing in life, and he’s going to make it his mission now to find her. As a young man, Ben had thought she’d just magically fall into his lap. When that hadn’t happened, he settled. Debbie had been sweet, and smart, and they made sense as a couple. She didn’t want to wait around for her Soulmate, feeling the uneasy tick-tock of her biological clock treading on her heels, and he had thought he loved her. Enough, at least, to make it work. 

Well now he realizes you gotta work for what you want in this life, and he's no longer willing to settle.

But then Reed's in trouble. Everyone is, the whole world could be at stake, and they don't need Ben Grimm. They need Thing, and as much as he'd like to stay Ben Grimm, he knows this is too big a problem for him to just avoid. He can't walk away from this. Those are his friends, his… his teammates. His family.

No, the Thing will return, and Ben Grimm will take to the sidelines once more.

And after Von Doom’s on his way out of the country, when he's about to skulk off back to the tower to mourn his future as a living boulder, he’s stopped dead in his tracks by a commotion coming from a nearby alley. It sounds like a domestic squabble, but someone’s done someone wrong here, clearly. Someone’s in trouble, and Ben’s newly found heroism rushes like adrenaline through his system. 

A smaller, though in comparison to him everyone's smaller, body crashes into him from the darkness.

You look up from the brick wall you thought you had run into. “Oh! oh I'm so sorry  I…!” you stuttered before glancing over your shoulder with fear, returning your gaze to Ben's only a second later. “Help me!” your voice comes out as barely a squeak before you duck behind this mountain of a man. Meanwhile, Ben hasn’t shifted, but his eyes have widened.

He hadn’t expected to hear those words. Not tonight. Not after giving them up so recently. His heart is still aching from the decision when it was taken out of his hands.

Maybe he had been right the first time, and the whole point of this Soulmate thing is that they fall into your lap when you least expect it.

Ben's still wrapping his head around the situation, and everything it entails, when a man comes barreling around the corner. He has tears in his eyes, likely from pain, as he's got a hand protectively in front of his crotch. Ben smirks at this.

“Now listen,  _ darling… _ ” the man starts with a sneer before realizing you're no longer alone, and the thing you’re standing behind is actually the Thing. His gaze stiffens as he takes in all of Ben Grimm in his six foot plus glory.

“I'm not your darling!” you snarl back, still hiding behind your newly chosen protector. “Not anymore, so you can just go to hell, Lyle!”

“N-now, be reasonable, sweet…” Lyle is still staring at Ben and swallowing his fear thickly, backing up slightly. For once, Ben is enjoying the terror he strikes into strangers’ hearts.

“You heard the lady, back off,” Ben growled, and both you and Lyle turn pale. Well, in Lyle's case, paler.

“You…” you stare up at Ben in amazement and, understandably, a small amount of horror. He can't really blame you, now, can he? Even he knows he's monstrous to look at, and it's not like this body is capable of much physical affection. He’s not anyone’s first, second, or hell, hundredth choice for a Soulmate. He tries not to think about that part too much.

Lyle takes off running, feet slapping the concrete, but you stay. You come around to face the nervous superhero, and beyond all reason, you smile. He doesn’t understand the gesture, not really, because you should be mad. You should be running away. You should be upset, anything but smiling, because who would want a living rock as their Soulmate?

“You're my soulmate?” your touch on his skin does nothing, and clearly it does about as little for you as well. But, as you poke around inside your hoodie and reveal his words tattooed just between your clavicle and top of the shoulder, you both can see it's turned black.

“It, that doesn't mean we hafta… I mean, if you don't want…” Ben's never been so nervous, so uncertain of himself and his words, but he's also a hulking pile of rocks. He'll understand if you had been hoping for better. As in, anyone human. Including that pansy ass Lyle creep.

“No!” you blurt, reaching out and grabbing Ben's arm with such overwhelming relief he can read it in your entire face. “No, see, I… the… me and… that was my ex, Lyle, and we broke up because he's… I'm just…” you sigh, red-faced and laughing at your own ineptness. “I'm sorry, I just… I've only told like two people this ever.” You breathe and take a solid stance, “I don't really like… being touched. I don't know why, it's a really weird thing about me, and people used to call me autistic which, maybe I am, but they meant it to be mean, and I…”

“You… don’t like touching?” he’s amazed and confounded all at once. He’s never met a person like that before.

“I don’t like sex,” you admit carefully, wincing. You’ve never outright told a stranger this. They always look at you like you’re nuts, and you just don’t see much point in bringing up the subject at all. “Hell, I barely hug.”

Ben Grimm can’t believe what he’s hearing, but in a weird way, he supposes this does work out after all. And hey, he’s never really been a touchy-feely guy. One of his and Debbie’s many problems was his disinterest in cuddling and physical affection.

“So, um, you wanna grab a beer?” he offers with a strange smile. “I know a place.”

You laugh, stuffing your hands in your pockets, “Um, alright. Sounds good.”

You two walk side by side, talking about anything and everything, and it feels natural. Right. For once, you’re totally comfortable with yourself, and Ben’s even starting to accept his future as is. In fact, he’s starting to think it’ll be better than he thought.


End file.
